Winding Shelf Roads

Every time I felt nervous, I whispered: if the Taliban can scale mountains in a Tacoma, so can we.

On the winding shelf roads of A. Pass, straddled by a quaint mountain town, we listened to music and took in our surroundings. Trees, rivers, creeks, mountains. It was, for the most part, smooth sailing. That is, until the very end. As we neared the mountaintop, one road rose steeply upwards. I stepped out of the car and climbed the inclined myself. This was when I toppled on a bed of rocks. My camera was fine, and so was I, except for one thing. When I arrived at the car, I noticed that my phone was gone.

Also, it was on silent.

To an audience of grand mountains, not to be trifled with human pettiness, I scaled the hill. I wondered if it was finally time to part ways with my iPhone 6s. I also wondered if le beau had thrown the phone away, given their feud. Then I laughed at the situation. Who climbs the side of a mountain, trips, falls, loses their phone, and leaves it on silent? Buoyed by the ridiculousness of the situation, I kept looking.

Then I saw an unnaturally rectangular thing glint in the sunlight. My beloved phone.

The terrain only worsened from here. The wind was blustery and mean, and although I tried walking another stretch, I ended up out of breath. Deterred by rocks the size of pumpkins, we turned around. It took me a minute to recollect my anxiety. Then we went back to listening to mellow tunes and rumbling through the shelf road forest and chit-chatting.

Midway through the trek, I had become seized by the need for BBQ. As we surrounded ourselves with Mother Nature’s bounty, I babbled about brisket, beans and bread. Serendipitously, 10 miles from the exit, we stumbled upon a BBQ hut. There we had it: our brisket, beans and bread. We ate the BBQ at a nearby park. On a playground tree stump, surrounded by old homes and white picket fences, we ate the best BBQ I’ve had in my life.

Category: Trips


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